Dinner Blessings

I have been trying to cultivate gratitude in my children by teaching them that all things come from God. As we say a blessing before we eat, I remind the kids that we are thanking God for the food that we have because He gives us all that we have. I didn't realize this might be a very confusing idea until I heard John Mac's blessing today:

Dear God, thank you for dying on the cross for me. Thank you for the

macaroni and cheese that you gave to us that we bought at the store

and cooked for ourselves. Amen.

Can you hear his little brain? How does God give us things if we are having to go to the store and buy them? What kind of a present is that? Oops. Guess it is a little complex to explain the role of God's gracious provision through our own efforts to a two year old. Better get the pastor husband involved on that one!

One other thought from today. Two year olds are the best napping partners. They will rarely sit still enough to fall asleep, but if you lay down with them and help them stay still....they will fall into a deep and beautiful sleep, eyes closed, smile on their face. Just the way an afternoon should go.

Reading

Have you ever watched a child learn to read? It really is amazing. Caroline is just starting to read to us aloud, and it is such a beautiful thing to see and hear. I love to watch her mind working as she slowly produces each word. It feels somewhat like watching her birth. This amazing thing that I get to witness with wonder, but really I feel quite powerless in the whole event. Yes, I have taught her sounds. A says the short "a" sound as in apple; B says "b" as in ball. As you read with the eyes of a child, though, you realize how few words are phonetically simple. "Taught" is a great example; try to sound out the a, u, g, h in that word. Suddenly as a parent you find yourself wondering how a child could ever learn to read. I just kept doing what people said to do; read books together. For months, Caroline hasn't talked about reading, hasn't wanted to read aloud. She hasn't spoken a word about the reading she has done in school; she hasn't read the small books they have sent home that she has completed in class. Her teachers would tell me she was right on track, but I never knew a thing. Experienced mothers though would always tell me that different kids just start to read at different times, that it will come. A few weeks ago on our beach vacation, Caroline started to read signs aloud while we were driving. "Why does that say 'no bikes'?" she would ask. It was like the simple switch of a light. Suddenly she was reading all that she could around her. This week she has come home from school insisting on reading our Bible stories each night. Not exactly easy reader material, but we didn't want to turn down her first request to read aloud. She has done so well! It is amazing. I wonder if a lot of parenting is actually like this; that we get to watch and wait, but the process itself is not about us. It reminds me a lot of potty training. You think as a parent that you pick the right time, use the right training techniques. But the truth is, a child is ready at a certain point and they honestly have to learn how to potty for themselves. I have done this three times, starting early, starting late, using M&Ms, using matchcars....doesn't matter. A kid is going to learn when they are developmentally ready and you get to be there to watch and cheer on the process. So glad for the chance to be a cheerleader today. It's a role that I love to have.

A Good Sick Kid

John Mac is a very good sick kid. We were already aware of this. We just made it through a month with John Mac in a long arm cast and he never complained, never fussed about his cast. The hardest part for him was enduring the "saw" that was required to remove his cast at the end. Yesterday we went to the doctor emergently when John Mac's fever hit 106 degrees. Yes, 106. We checked it five times. By the time we made it back to the doctor's examining room, the Motrin had kicked in and John Mac was down to a comfortable 104 degrees. The picture below was taken to show his red cheeks and lips at 104 degrees (which are hard to tell...), but can you believe he's smiling? And notice the bandaid on his hand ?; this picture was taken after they had pricked him for a complete blood count. God makes us all different. I am so glad for the joy and delight John Mac has in most of his days, regardless of circumstances. I can learn a lot from him.

On a totally different note. Here's a conversation I had with Henry today.

Me: Henry did you hit John Mac?

Henry: Yes, I hit him with a book. But I didn't hit him with the pages. I kept the book closed and hit him.

Full admission of the truth.

"D.F.O.I.C."

D.F.O.I.C. : Translated from medical terminology this means "dun' fell out in church". I first learned this abbreviation working in the E.R. at a N.C. hospital. I remember a doctor explaining to me as a student that this is how patients talked about passing out. I didn't buy it at first, but slowly, with lots of listening, I heard lots of stories of how Sally Sue "dun' fell out". And often it was in church. Picture the crowded room, fans on. Sally Sue has been up since early morning cooking and getting ready for a long church day. Then Sally Sue stands, sings, sits, prays her way through a service. As her blood sugar gets lower, the building gets warmer. Long and short of it, she passes out and ends up in the ER. Doctors get to determine if she had a heart attack, or a stroke, or simply couldn't handle the long sermon that day. Interestingly enough, even the emergency room in Philadelphia used the DFO as a patient descriptor. (I assumed the southern terminology limited its' use.)

We had a DFO in our church today. A real one. A good one; not the stories I often heard where I wasn't sure if they passed out or simply dozed off for a bit. A gentlemen fell over abruptly during Sunday School while seated. He was pale as a sheet with a true green hue. His pulse was thready and slow. After a bit he could answer questions, but just barely. He was sweaty and kept complaining of nausea. Our fellow church people filed out of the room. An ER doctor, myself and a nurse practitioner attended to the man. He was coming around, but really not so quickly. Nausea and sweating in a 50 something year old man is always a good bet for a heart attack. But his wife said that it was actually the announcement about the church blood drive had made him ill. He hates the thought of needles. I knew he was a cyclist, a math professor, very active. We found out he took a baby aspirin that morning. The paramedics arrived and his blood pressure started to creep up a bit towards normal. We were able to obtain a normal heart tracing for him. After about twenty minutes, we were able to walk him out of the building.

And here is the part that shows how I really made it through med school: I had so much fun today. It was so fun to do real medicine with friends and for a friend. It was so good to think through all the options: what it could be, what we could do for him without any medical equipment. Because we knew him and could take our time, check a rhythm strip, we were able to save him a trip to the ER today. Anywhere else, without any doctors around, in this litigious environment, he would have quickly been hauled to the ER without a thought. All in all it was a good DFOIC and a good reminder that I occasionally love to use my medical brain.

The Mulch Pile

I have missed some time without writing, some big events: Easter, Hannah's first birthday, cousin Dory's birthday party, a beach trip. Somehow though, my favorite things to write about are not the big things but the ordinary things. The things that I am really scared I will forget one day because right now it is all I know. Kind of like how you don't realize what it's like to be an American until you explore foreign soil, and then you wonder if you made up all those memories. Today's ordinary is mulch. It is day three of the mulch pile play. Who knew that a pile of mulch could be so much fun? The kids have spent hours playing. Henry even went out today fever and all for several more climbs. So good that Daddy is only slowly able to make a dent in the massive hill. The kids climb up to the top, then hurl themselves down the side of the tarp. Like a big slide.

Of course, we have had several injuries. John Mac seems to be working hard on breaking his other arm as he can't seem to catch himself well with a cast on one side. All in all though, it makes me feel like not everyone is getting their money out of their mulch like the Barrett Family is right now.

A few fun things recently....

a picture of the boys in a warm spring rain puddle:

Another fun story....Today as I took Caroline to school she said to me, "Look Mommy, their highing the flag." She was of course referring to "raising" the flag. Interestingly though, we do use the verb "lowering" the flag and low is the opposite of high....So good to hear all the oddities of the English language through the ears of children!

A little kindness please..

When I was in nursing school (back before medical school, residency and children), I was amazed at the harshness of the experienced nurses towards us nursing students. On clinical rotations, the nurses were our teachers, our supervisors. They were often frustrated by our questions, impatient with our incompetent hands as we tried to learn new skills. I was amazed. It was particularly interesting in that the nurses treated nursing students with a disdain that I felt was much worse than what I experienced later as a medical student. Did they not remember what it was like to learn? Does a little kindness towards a young student really cost you that much?

Fast forward 15 years. Today we went to a high school musical. I took Caroline, Henry and John Mac in order to try to give my husband some quiet and work time. I knew it would be a challenge. A two hour show with a two year old in my lap. I brought quarters for snack food and I was fully planning to leave at intermission if necessary. Why are we doing this you wonder? A neighborhood girl down the street asked us to come and watch her as the star of the show. So, here we go. We made it through the first half. I was so pleased. No loud noises or crying, it was great. We head to the bathrooms immediately upon intermission. (I do have a two year old in underwear with me.) The line is long despite our focused path there. I guess even moving fast with three in tow is still slow. We wait. We wait some more. Finally we all four fit in one stall and take turns using the potty. (I only had to say four times, "please do not open the door yet".) After a difficult exit, we go to wash hands. Unfortunately there is only one working sink. As we all four use the sink there is a line of adult women waiting. They sigh. They hold their germy hands out as if it is work for them to have to wait to get them clean as I lift each child up to reach the soap and push the button multiple times to keep the water on. I keep moving beneath their dull eyes. Whatever. My children get clean hands and we move on to the 25 cent candy bars. But I found myself thinking: can we share a little kindness please? And it reminded me of nursing school. Same deal. Most of these women were older; they had been mothers of young children at one time. They knew what it was like to use the restroom with an extra appendage. It was sad. But I think noticing the lack of kindness made me realize how often I am so glad for the kindness I receive as a young mother.

Toothpaste Art

Yesterday I cleaned large patches of blue colored toothpaste off the kids' bathroom sink. Today I cleaned large patches of blue colored toothpaste off the kids' bathroom sink. And I don't understand why there is always so much toothpaste all around the sink. Are they painting the sink with it? It really is enough to make several images in several locations. Is it that hard to put toothpaste on the toothbrush directly? It is really quite remarkable and you have to scrub to get the large congealed chunks of blue off. (Don't get me started on how there must be a health problem with bright blue toothpaste with glittery specks in it for kids; it's really hard to find organic toothpaste for kids in W'burg). I do have the kids clean the sinks some, and they are actually good at it. But it seems wrong to make a 5 year old on her way to school clean the sink every day. Just so I clarify that I do not frequently rant about cleaning ....I have totally given up on the boys' potty. Clearly making a small boy pee only in the water portion of the toilet bowl is a goal I can never obtain and I have surrendered myself to daily wiping down the toilets. However, the sink seems to irritate me even more because I simply don't understand why a toothpaste free sink is not an obtainable goal. I frequently even put the toothpaste on their brushes for them. Although I must say that part of why I don't know how it gets so messy is because bedtime around here is action packed entertainment and I never get to stand and slowly watch the toothbrushing portion of the show. And yet, if the bathroom sink is filling up this much of my brain clearly something is wrong with me. I think I'll go outside this afternoon.

Oh, an interesting conversation I had with Henry yesterday. We were driving around in the car and Henry said, "We are a big town and God is having fun playing with us while we drive around." I tried to ask what he meant, and Henry slowly described that we are essentially God's train table toy. God moves us around the map as we drive around W'burg. I thought it was a pretty creative idea. I told Henry, "Yes, but your trains don't get to talk to you Henry, and tell you where they want you to go. We get to talk to God and tell him where we would like to go in the town." Free will verses sovereignty of God at age four....pretty impressive.